


Breathless

by KestrelShrike



Category: Mass Effect (Comics), Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Chronic Illness, Disability, F/M, Gen, Rydros, Slow Burn, eezo - Freeform, element zero
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2018-12-24 10:29:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12010833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KestrelShrike/pseuds/KestrelShrike
Summary: I have to say some back story before I launch into the summary. When Andromeda first came out, I was somewhat upset at Jaal's comment about how angara never discuss illness, and view it as taboo. As someone with a chronic illness, this was baffling and alienating to me- would I be taboo to them? This spiraled into a discussion about what if Ryder had a chronic illness/disability, and how that would effect her work. People were... not supportive, telling me this was unrealistic and they'd refuse to read about it, and because I'm a glutton for punishment, I spent the next few months hashing out the details for this fic. I'm so nervous to post it, but I hope you like it.In which Ryder's secret is discovered, not only by Tann, but by Tiran Kandros, a turian who makes her feel all kinds of ways, and the roots of trouble are planted.





	1. Chapter 1

A call for an urgent meeting with Nexus leadership could mean only one thing- Wren Ryder’s secret has been revealed, worming its way into the light despite all her best attempts to keep it hidden. It created a gnawing pit of worry in her stomach, one that grew as the Tempest docked with the Nexus, ramp extending in a yawning maw of darkness. Now that they had enough power, they were trying to introduce night and day cycles. Most everyone would be asleep by now. A clandestine meeting? Doubly troubling. 

Before she left the safety of her ship, her little world, Vetra laid a hand on Ryder’s shoulder. “Give ‘em hell.” Swallowing past the hard lump in her throat, Wren could only nod. It would be hell one way or another, but who would be giving and who would be receiving remained to be seen. 

Hardly anyone was awake at this hour. A few shadowy figures flickered just past the comfortable cone of vision, and Wren tried not to jump. They were just maintenence, people conducting late night meetings. It was nothing sinister, and yet the air hung so heavy, so tinged with expectations and with her own fears. She thought some of the shadows may have nodded at her, perhaps waved, surprised to see the Pathfinder on the Nexus so late at night, and she raised her hand hesitantly, afraid that she was greeting nothing at all. 

She was on the shuttle towards administration all too soon. At least there was power enough for this, though she was the lone occupant, fingers tapping her destination, staring at her own reflection. Not entirely sure she liked what she saw, Wren took inventory- purple hair, eyes weary, a facial tattoo a monument to regrets and teenage angst. Her dad had been so pissed at her, but now it reminded her of him. It was something to hold onto. 

The tram pulled up to an empty platform, the sound of her sneakers (Earth vintage, a little scuffed) the only noise. The Nexus was always strangely tinged with echoes when no one was around. Maybe the plants that were slowly growing would reduce the noise, muffling it all within a green blanket. Down a distant corridor, a fluorescent light flickered once and went out, leaving Tann’s open office door the only source of illumination besides dim emergency lights on the floor, guiding her way. 

Into the lion’s den. 

Behind a pristinely white desk, Tann’s secretary dozed, membranes covering her eyes to keep them moist. 

“Iral,” Wren said, reluctant to wake her but wanting to catch up on the latest news. “They dragged you into this?” 

With a start, Iral’s head slipped off where it had been resting on her fist, arm sweeping out in panic, knocking a cup of pens and tablet styluses to the floor. “I’m awake! Oh, hello Ryder.” Her tone brightened considerably before a frown settled on her face. She didn’t bother to hide her yawn, nodding her head as she spoke. “They’re a little angry.” 

Iral had a habit of severely understating things, often describing Tann as ‘mildly perturbed’ or ‘somewhat irritable.’ Angry didn’t bode well for anyone. 

“That bad?” 

“Worse. Just prepare yourself, Ryder. Go full Pathfinder,” Iral got out, before another yawn took over. 

Patting the salarian on the shoulder, Wren shot over her shoulder, “I owe you a drink.” Maybe ten. At least now she was somewhat more prepared to face what lay up the stairs, Tann’s little podium of importance. It all boiled down to that single possibility, a carefully held secret escaping out, winding insidious arms through everything and pulling them tight. Nothing could stay quiet forever, even with the vastness of a new galaxy to hide in. Now or never. 

Though Wren had expected Tann and Addison, Kesh and Tiran Kandros were a surprise, and not a pleasant one. Kesh was someone she had counted on as a friend, someone who had her back and supported the decisions she had made thus far as Pathfinder, and to see the frown that creased the krogan’s face now was a stark reminder of every failure Wren had enacted thus far. And what of Kandros? Her feelings towards him, a complicated swirl based on butterflies in her stomach and a hesitant friendship, made it difficult to see his own disapproval. 

“Ryder. How kind of you to join us.” Tann’s tones were as clipped as always, dry to the point of being scouring. Not Pathfinder, she noted, just her name. Pathfinder hadn’t been earned yet. 

“I wish the circumstances were better. Alas. We’ve heard some disappointing news.” From behind his desk, where he held the only seated position, Tann folded his hands, interlacing his fingers. 

Hedging her bets, she replied, “I can’t imagine what that would be,” tone as innocent as she could manage. 

Making a low hum of frustration, Tann shook his head slowly. “I think that you can, Ryder. Tell me what you know about EEZO-born illness.” His fingers steepled, touching each other lightly again and again. 

Bile rose, forming a hard, burning lump in Wren’s throat. Words were choked out from her. “How did you find out?” Everything out in the open, catching there, tightening her chest, blood seeming to pulse over and over again to the tune of the word ‘secret.’ 

Shaking his head, Tann solemnly declared, “we have our ways. Needless to say, you’re skating on thin ice. I do hope you’ll bring us some better news in future, or we may have to discuss the future of your title as Pathfinder. And if you feel that your little… health problem is interfering, we’d be happy to discuss your replacement.” With that, he turned his back to her, making it clear that their meeting was over. 

Addison had nothing to say, simply shaking her head and moving out of the room. Kesh looked equally solemn, and when Wren reached out a hand to try and stop the krogan, maybe get a word in edgewise, she simply shook her head. Not now. It was only Kandros who lingered to look at her, glancing up and down her length, taking it in and appraising, weighing. What his judgement was, he didn’t say. 

“Oh, and Ryder,” Tann shot over his shoulder before she could flee, thoughts scrambled, “I took the liberty of informing you crew about your condition. I thought they’d find it relevant.” 

Shit. Double shit. Triple shit. There was nowhere to run. Just like the EEZO had poisoned her lungs, Wren Ryder’s secret poisoned the air.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the secret of Wren Ryder's health leaks, she's desperate to prove herself. The foundation of a successful colony on Eos is a good first step, but is it enough? A surprising email sparks something in her she didn't want to think about...
> 
> Comments very much appreciated. <3

Sometimes it felt like the tubes were miles long. Other times the tether was too short, restricting Wren Ryder’s movement, making her pace like a confined tiger- four steps this way before her cord was stretched too tight, three this way, the machine not too heavy to lift but inconvenient. This was the reality she showed to her crew, the soft sounds of the oxygen concentrator the only noise in the room for several beats, nearly inaudible to her overly familiar ears. “This is me. Like it or not.” Her words came out as a sharper bark than she had intended, shoulders and spine ramrod stiff, staring straight ahead so that she didn’t have to look at any of them. The cannula never sat right in her nose or behind her ears, and with her audience, it was more uncomfortable than usual, making it difficult to resist the urge to fiddle with it. 

Her cabin, normally so spacious, felt crowded by the presence of bodies, so many fitting into a small space, none of them breaking the silence. They simply stared, taking it all in. Finally, someone spoke, Drack’s bass rumble deep enough to vibrate her bones. 

“You do this every night, kid?” 

At the same time, Lexi’s voice raised in outrage, not at Ryder, thankfully enough, cutting through Drack’s own question and giving everyone the cue they needed to speak at once, lobbing half-formed statements and queries alike. “They had no right to access your medical information like that-” 

“Is this why Alec chose you?” 

“What’s the dial do, Ryder?” 

“What kind of system are you using?” So many questions, all at once, trying to speak over each other, trying to get into her space, wanting to touch and feel, as if that would make everything that much more real, as if that would provide answers. 

“STOP. Everyone… Just stop. Please.” The yell scratched her throat, and in her frustration and haste to be free of so many grasping hands, Wren stepped backwards, warding her hands up. “Conference room. Now.” Not here. Not in her space. This had been a mistake and she cursed Tann mentally again and again for violating every aspect of her privacy with just a few sentences. She tore the oxygen tubes from her nose, feeling discomfort but freedom all at once, glad to be able to unwind herself from the snake of tubing and leave her little sanctuary. Nowhere was safe anymore. 

They followed her, scolded children, heads bowed low and feet scuffing the floor. When they took their seats, they still didn’t make any eye contact with Wren, alternating between looking at each other and looking down at the table as if it was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. Drack studied his large hands and Lexi still fumed under her breath, spots of red highlighting her blue face.

“Do you trust me to do my job?” Wren asked the assembled table, a chorus of either ‘yes’ or a silence alternating between them. Liam, yes. Lexi, yes. Gil, yes. Silence from Peebee and Cora. That was fine. That was expected.

“Then this,” she gestured to herself, “can wait. It’s EEZO born, and that’s all you need to know. Scott got biotics. I got some shit in my lungs. I can do what you need me to do, and that’s all you need to know.” They could either deal with it, or they could leave the ship. It was as simple as that. 

No one raised any immediate suggestions, though doubt was still heavy on their faces, and though they now looked at Wren, their glances seemed to slide off her face. It would suffice, for now. “Good. Then we have a colony to found.”  
****

It wasn’t until later, dust settling into her lungs and then being cleared by her oxygen, that Wren bothered to check her terminal for messages. Prodromos. Home, one day. Maybe. It was real dirt beneath her boots, at least and the first tangible sign of al start of her journey as Pathfinder. There were still more questions than answers- who or what were the Remnant? Would the air continue to get better- but it was the first sign of hope they’d had in some time. At the very least, it proved that she could do the job that had been thrust on her, and could do it even with her limitations. No one dared to knock on her door tonight, leaving her space to take deep breaths, to cough and not be afraid that someone was listening.

A message from Kesh caught Wren’s eyes. Memories of their last conversation still burned through her eyes; at least Addison had come out to see the new colony. The rest still hid, communicating through Tann or not at all, if they could get away from it. 

_Ryder,_

_I may have misjudged you. For that, you have my apologies._

_Kesh_

It was short, but to the point, and though she didn’t want to, Wren couldn’t keep a small smile off her face. Progress, such as it was, had to be taken when she could grab it. Kesh could be a valuable ally in the future. Maybe even a friend.

The second email surprised her further, putting a squeeze on her heart that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, though SAM gave a warning buzz. Wren should be mad at Tiran Kandros, who had been just as cold as the others, but she was more willing to forgive a pretty face than she would ever admit. 

_Pathfinder,_

_Congratulations on founding the new colony. I did have some questions in regards to some decisions you made in the process. Perhaps this can be discussed over drinks to celebrate Eos?_

_Regards,_

_Tiran Kandros_

Saying no would be the right thing. There was still far too much on her plate, trying to keep the news of her health from spreading like wildfire, but surely this victory had earned her a little reprise? Guilt was still a residual twinge; Wren hadn’t bothered to tell her crew anything. It still felt too soon to spill her story, like too much exposition would ruin the subtle aura of mystique she was determined to wring from the whole situation, and Kandros had done nothing to address the elcor in the room.

Fuck it. Emotionally and physically exhausted, her fingertips left a soft imprint of dust across the keys. 

_It seems you’re willing to overlook things you weren’t before. I accept, if you’ll tell me what’s changed._

_Wren Ryder_

Skating over thin ice was, after all, what she did best.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder and Kandros meet for drinks and to discuss her health and arguments and alcohol make some interesting tension.

Word hadn’t yet leaked out that the Pathfinder was anything less than the healthy, happy individual she appeared to be, but Wren still felt self-conscious as she walked through the main atrium of the Nexus. Eyes followed her; it wasn’t her imagination. They didn’t know. They couldn’t possibly know. 

“Pathfinder, good work on Eos,” a man said in passing to her, his hand clapping her on the shoulder. Oh. Eos. Right. It was strange how in the face of so much potential for disaster, Wren had completely forgotten that she had founded a new colony and battled ancient tech to help create a sustainable, breathable atmosphere. Just minor things, really. Hell, maybe even her dad would have been proud, though she had difficult visualizing Alec Ryder giving her a warm hug and tousling her hair. More likely that he would have said the job she did was adequate and not to sit on her ass and congratulate herself. 

At least she had a mission on board the Nexus. Part of Wren still couldn’t believe she had taken Kandros up on his offer of a drink and a chance to discuss Prodromos, but the other, louder part of her insisted that she was only human. He was a good looking turian, and it had been six hundred years, technically speaking. He hadn’t truly apologized for his treatment of her when he found out about her eezo-lungs, but there was time yet, and she was determined to squeeze something out of him. 

One of the few asari on board the Nexus stopped Wren to shake her hand, pumping enthusiastically. “Great work Ryder, really great work. Any news on the other Arks?” There was always something else. 

She shook her head, trying to look regretful instead of vaguely annoyed at the question. “Not yet, but we have a few leads to follow.” Three Arks still drifting out there somewhere, and that many more lives that were somehow almost solely her responsibility.

Another handshake and the asari was off. The noise of the Vortex was almost a relief; at least no one could comfortably or easily approach Wren here, and in between flashes of strobe, she was almost anonymous. The mood inside was festive, the music pumping and loud. Couples of every make and gender danced together, movements almost frantic. There wasn’t a large variety of alcohol to go around; that would have to wait until Prodromos had established itself a bit more and had time to grow a wider variety of crops. But what it lacked in variety it more than made up for in quantity, almost every single store raided for tonight. This could be the last bottle of beer, the last of the wine, the last of the whiskey, they would ever see, but it was all being thrown in an audience who wanted every excuse to imbibe in an excess of joy. Even Wren’s purple hair couldn’t stand out here. 

Pushing her way through to the bar, Wren barely managed to flag down Anan T’Mari. Above, the pulsing music, she heard the asari say, “discount drinks for the Pathfinder!” 

“Discount? Not free?” Wren shouted back.   
“You want us to go broke? Pathfinder Ryder doesn’t support small businesses- a Lexi T’Perro investigation.” Okay. Point taken. 

Drink in hand and several credits poorer, Wren slipped into a booth. She had beat Tiran Kandros by at least a few minutes, which gave her time to reflect on what to say. Should she be pissed at him, or should she try and be reasonable? She knew what her dad would say, but she also knew which way she was personally leaning and the two were at odds with each other. Before she could make up her mind, however, he arrived, sliding in across from her. 

There were several long seconds of silence in which Wren took a bracing sip of her drink. “So,” she began. 

“So,” Kandros shot back, looking down at his own cup rather than look at her. 

“To Eos?” Raising her cup in a toast, Wren thought this a safe place to start. 

“To Eos.” And now that they were done repeating each other, it would get much more difficult, though at least now both had alcohol in their systems to soothe the burn. 

“Why did you choose a science outpost over a military one, Ryder? The kett presence in the region will have to be dealt with, and you have that Remnant tech that we don’t understand.” Ah. So they were going to start with this argument. Touche. 

“Because the people on Prodromos are going to need to eat, Kandros.” There was a smile on Wren’s face, sickly sweet. “The Nexus needs water, more oxygen. We need somewhere to plant our seeds. We’ll need sources of protein and all those other chemicals that the body requires. I don’t know all of them- I’m not a scientist. But now Prodromos will have plenty of them. Look, I’ve made shitty decisions but this isn’t one of them.” 

Her volume had grown increasingly louder, almost over the music. Someone in the next booth over was craning their neck, trying to see what was going on. “Fair,” was all Kandros replied with, though he was sitting with his arms crossed, mandibles curled into a frown. 

“I don’t think you asked for this meeting just to discuss Prodromos.” There was no real point to beating around the bush, such as it was. Discussing her health in a public place was hardly ideal, but alcohol could provide enough false courage to push her through it. 

Kandros took a long sip before answering. “No,” he finally said. “I may have… misjudged you. Been unnecessarily harsh. The work you’ve accomplished so far has been extraordinary, especially given the circumstances. But you have to understand Nexus leadership point of view.” He spoke with more conviction now, certainty in his dual-toned voice. “You’re an asset, but now you’re a fragile one. What are we going to do if we lose another Pathfinder? How are we going to keep morale up? How can we make sure you stay in peak condition? You’re hardly military fit-” 

“Which shouldn’t matter. That’s bullshit and you know it, Kandros. My health has been stable enough that I’ve kept it a secret up until this point. Just let my work speak for itself and let me do my own worrying. Any Pathfinder could die at any given time, and I’m not about to keel over just from some eezo in my lungs. Get Tann off my ass and I’ll be the best damn Pathfinder you could hope for.” 

That actually made Kandros laugh, which made Wren grin again in turn, tension flooding out of her body and shoulders lowering perceptibly. She could see it on his face- he didn’t fully trust what she was saying, but at least he seemed open to it. “It’s not like I asked for this,” she added. 

Kandros shook his head before adding, “I didn’t either. Maybe a toast to that. And a toast to keeping you healthy. I’ll worry, but that’s my job. You’re one of my men now. Er. So to speak.” Well, that they could both drink to, draining the rest of their cups and leaning further back. 

“We all have big shoes to fill, Kandros. But I’ll bet that I fill mine before you fill yours.” Her head was buzzing pleasantly from just one drink. Oh, it was on. 

He leaned forward until they were just inches apart. “I’ll take that bet, Pathfinder.” Their argument wasn’t over, but it had just gotten much more interesting.


End file.
